


Just in Case

by leftennant



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, PWP, Romance, Shameless Smut, Smuff, Smut, leftylain fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:38:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1710269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftennant/pseuds/leftennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could be the joyful carnival atmosphere.  Or possibly it's the whirling pipe organ music blaring from the carousel and the fact that they’ve ridden enough times for him to be feeling slightly dizzy.  All the Doctor knows is that when he looks at the ecstatic smile lighting up Rose’s face, his whole being just wants to kiss her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just in Case

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little smutty one-shot that popped into my head while I was supposed to be doing other things. Hooray for procrastination!

It could be the joyful carnival atmosphere. Or possibly it's the whirling pipe organ music blaring from the carousel and the fact that they’ve ridden enough times for him to be feeling slightly dizzy. All the Doctor knows is that when he looks at the ecstatic smile lighting up Rose’s face, his whole being just wants to kiss her. The urge is so strong it steals his breath away as the blurry landscape goes in and out of focus around them. 

She’s riding a chestnut horse with black mane, and he’s standing next to her, holding onto the pole to keep his balance. It’s a simple thing to lean around it, move one hand from the brass piping and place it at the small of her back to steady them and put them in sync. She catches his eye and he can see the curiosity on her face turn into something else as he presses his lips to hers. 

It’s not perfect. The motion of the horse forces her to let go of the pommel and grab his lapels while he lifts up on his toes and gets his other arm around her waist. They’re managing though, he thinks as she catches his bottom lip in her teeth and then sweeps her tongue into his mouth. She tastes of candyfloss and caramel corn and surprise, and he wants more. More kissing, more tasting, more Rose Tyler wrapped snug in his arms in the middle of a local carnival, on an unremarkable planet in a galaxy few bother to visit. 

She begins shifting, breaking the kiss to pull away with her hands braced on his shoulders. He’s about to protest when he sees she’s just trying to climb off the horse. Her whole body shimmies down the front of his in the attempt, and a sharp bolt of arousal floods through him. It’s heady and consuming, he feels almost drunk and definitely giddy.

She smiles up at him, tongue peeking out and her expression a mixture of teasing and elation. It’s lovely to see. The flush on her cheeks, the feel of her one heartbeat racing against both of his, all of it working to chase away months and months of denial in a split second of reckless indulgence. He takes hold of the tarnished rail and tips her chin up with the other hand, long fingers sliding over her jaw and finally coming to rest behind her head so he can snog her again. 

This time it’s his tongue in her mouth, and she makes a noise in the back of her throat that has him thinking their first kiss is very well going to turn into their first shag, and isn’t _that_ brilliant? However, there’s no shagging happening in the middle of a carousel with some of the other patrons beginning to look askance at their behavior. They draw apart, chuckling a bit, and she rubs the back of her hand over her mouth while her eyes sparkle up at him. 

“Did you just snog me on a funfair merry-go-round?” she asks, poking him in the stomach and causing him to jump and smile.

“Think I did,” he replies. “Think I might again, but it would be nice to not be standing on what amounts to a giant, wobbly turntable.”

She nods. “Yeah. Well, we could get off.”

“What, _now_?” he glances at the ground rushing by outside the parameters of the carousel, trying to gauge whether or not they could do it without ending up in an inelegant heap on the grass. 

“Why not?” She cocks her head at him and slips her hand into his. “You count it down, and then we can just…jump.”

He looks at her, thinking of how her statement is pretty much an analogy of their entire relationship to date. “You count it down,” he says, tightening his grip on her hand.

“Yeah?” She grins up at him.

He gives her hand a squeeze. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” The both drop into a bit of a crouch, and before the ride operator can react, Rose calls out, “Three…two…one… JUMP!”

They dive from the platform, hitting the ground at crazy, stumbling run. He staggers right, pulling her along with him and she crashes against him, nearly knocking them both to the ground before he can reorient himself and catch her. They stand there, arms locked around each other, laughing uproariously as people stop and stare. It’s only moments before he can see what looks like a very grim-looking member of carnival security quickly approaching them.

“I think we’d better run,” he says.

“As usual?” she counters, giving him a sideways glance that sets a cascading wave of butterflies loose in his stomach. 

“As always,” he amends, and they flee, dodging around the other guests and ducking past booths full of fixed games and bug-eyed stuffed toys. 

“Thought you were gonna win me one of those,” she says, pointing at a particularly hideous example that might be a cow or might be a whale, and looks like neither and both at the same time.

He pulls her around the final wooden booth to where the TARDIS stands waiting and pops his key in the door. “Next time, I promise.”

“Oh yeah? I don’t know, Doctor. I feel like you owe me a consolation prize.” There’s a certain confidence on her face now, a sexy mix of bravado and hope and he gets the consolation prize reference immediately.

“Well,” he says, rounding on her now that they’re safely inside the TARDIS with the door shut behind them, “if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, then that wouldn’t be me so much winning something for you, as it would be me winning something _with_ you, eh?”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” she replies and walks her fingers up the front of his shirt, where’s he’s neglected to wear a tie, choosing instead to go casual for their outing with an oxford open at the throat and a dark blue henley underneath.

The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. “That’s very gracious of you. Rose Tyler, benevolent bestower of…” He runs out of b-words and she laughs.

“Bananas?” she offers with a snicker.

He quirks an eyebrow and counters with, “Bondage?”

“Oooh, well if we’re gonna go there, how about blow...”

She never gets the rest of the word out, because the Doctor briskly takes her hand and pivots them around. “Bedroom,” he says decisively. “Best b-word I can think of under the circumstances.”

“It makes no sense with the sentence,” she teases, jogging to keep up with him as he strides down the corridor.

“Is my correct usage of grammar really foremost on your mind right now? Because I can think of twenty other things taking precedence in mine, like how very grateful I am that you wore a dress today. And how I just decided, at this very minute, that we are not making it to the bedroom. At least not the first time,” he amends, stopping abruptly and dropping to knees in front of her. 

It only takes him a second to have her backed up against the wall, the skirt of her dress lifted in one hand and the other splayed across her hip. She licks her lips, and he can almost see her arousal shimmering around her in the air like heat coming off pavement. 

“We’re really gonna do this,” she says in a voice just above a whisper, and he’s not sure if she’s talking to him or to herself but it doesn’t matter.

“Oh yes,” he replies. “We are.”

He leans forward and runs his tongue over her through the cloth of her knickers, the wetness of his mouth mixing with the wetness of her arousal as her hips rock forward in a sudden movement accompanied by a shuddering gasp. It’s gorgeous, that sound, and when he repeats the motion just to hear it again he isn’t disappointed. 

The taste of her through the cherry-print cotton is intoxicating. _And of all things_ , he thinks, _cherries_. He sends a silent thank you to whatever garment industry gods are behind such ridiculously euphemistic apparel. Although, truth be told, he suspects the cherries are better suited to him. It _has_ been two generations since he’s well…. Anyway, he’s about to remedy that in short order.

The fabric is clinging to her now in a very suggestive crease and he nudges it with his nose, brushing her clit and eliciting a breathy moan from Rose. It’s high time he got these off, he thinks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her knickers and tugging them down her thighs until they drop of their own accord and pool at her feet. She impatiently kicks them aside and then he’s left with nothing but Rose, wet and ready in front of him. 

He licks once, a long slow drag of his tongue through her slick folds that ends with a swirl over the sensitive little bundle of nerves at the top. 

“God,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder to steady herself as he goes back for another taste.

There’s so much more he wants to do, and he wants all of it at once, his tongue never pausing. Lapping, dipping, tracing along soft pink flesh in languid strokes and then moving in to suck on her clit as she trembles all against the wall. 

“So close…so…oh please, please don’t stop. Just there, just like that….please,” Rose begs, and he wonders why he ever thought this was something they shouldn’t be doing in the first place. 

It’s the last thought he has before he hears a sharp intake of breath from her, and then the world is balanced on a pinhead for several breathless seconds before she moans, fingers curling tight into the fabric of his jacket where her hands are still holding onto his shoulders. 

The moan turns into the word _fuck_ , followed by her voice chanting “ohgodohgodohgodohgod, _Doctor_!” as she comes hard against his mouth.

He gentles his motions, coaxing her orgasm out a little bit longer and slows to a stop as she bends at the waist, collapsing over him with her arms around his neck and her hair like a curtain about his face.

“ _God_ ,” she says again, “that was…” And words seem to fail her, all she can do is make a weak gesture with one arm trying to encompass what just transpired, and the Doctor decides he’d rather finish this in the bedroom after all.

“That,” he replies, standing up and scooping her into his arms, “was nothing. Just wait until you see what else I’ve got up my sleeve.”

“S’that were you keep it? In your sleeve?” she jokes. “Because I could have sworn it was in your pants earlier while we were on the merry-go-round. Unless that was some _other_ alien appendage I was feeling.”

“Appendage,” he snorts. “You make it sound like you expect it to be green and covered with tentacles.”

“Is it?” she asks, grinning mischievously at him as he finally reaches his bedroom and shoulders the door open.

He sets her down and spreads his arms wide in a gesture of surrender. “I don’t know. Why don’t you take this suit off me and find out?”

Rose takes him up on the offer so quickly that it causes him to chuckle and in it isn’t long before she has her answer. “Well, not green,” she says, closing her fingers around him and giving his shaft a slow stroke.

“No tentacles either,” he adds, wondering if the way he suddenly can’t control the thrusting of his hips is coming off as desperate and needy as he thinks it is. She strokes again he decides he doesn’t care.

“Nope. Just Doctor.” She looks up at him with a self-satisfied smile and stretches up to kiss him, never stopping the motions of her hand on him below. 

He finds that he’s the one gasping now, lungs scrabbling for air, and wonders where exactly his respiratory bypass has scampered off to. It’s not as if he hasn’t done this himself, but his own hand is worlds away from the feel of her hot human one as she pumps along his length and gives the head a squeeze. 

“Rose,” he says, drawing back just enough to speak, but close enough that he can still feel her breath on his lips, “we’ve got a bed right there. A very bouncy bed, in fact. Want to use it with me?”

“Mmm, been waiting for you ask for months,” she answers and releases him so she pull herself back onto the mattress. 

He follows her down onto the bed, covering her body with his own and pulling one of her legs around his hip as they align. Then her mouth finds his and his cock brushes wetly against her as they grind together. She’s still wearing her dress, but he’s not sure he has the coordination right now to get it off her without ripping it, and she doesn’t seem to be bothered. He shrugs and leaves it. Next time.

Rose rolls her hips against his and the change in position has him pressing against her entrance. The Doctor braces himself on his elbows and lifts up enough that he can watch Rose’s face as he finally pushes inside. Her back arches and her eyes close, fabric of her bodice straining across her breasts. She feels incredible around him, and his skin is buzzing all over with pure, unadulterated lust as he withdraws slightly only to thrust forward again, deeper this time. 

She tilts her pelvis and it’s more like his world just tilted on its axis, the new angle increasing all the delicious friction around him to a fever pitch. He wonders how long he can hold on. It’s almost a total sensory overload, the sight of her beneath him, the sounds she’s making, and the feel of their bodies moving together in joining. There’s a desperation inside him for her to come again, to come with her and hit that height together. He more than wants it, he _needs_ it. 

Her hands are roaming over his back, clutching his shoulders, his arse and he groans. Not long now. Rassilon, he hopes she’s nearly there. And then one of her hands moves, leaves him and skims over her own skin, sliding down until two fingers are playing over clit in a frantic rhythm and he gets it. Batting her hand away, he takes over with his own, supporting himself as best as he can on his other arm. 

Rose begins arching into him, nearly crushing his fingers between them, but he’s definitely on the right path now, and he’s not about to give up. Her legs curl up around his waist and he thrusts harder, both of them chasing after release. And just like before, there’s the gasp, the silence, and then she shatters around him, muscles clenching and fluttering wildly. It’s more than enough to send his own orgasm racing through him, and he pulses into her, every sinew in his body taut with the power of it. 

He’s knows he’s babbling, can hear it, but is unable to stop. Words spilling over each other in their eagerness to get out. Telling her how much he loves this, loves her, and how he would give up all his regenerations if it meant he could live this one life with her. It’s not until after, when he’s spooned up against her with his face resting next to hers on the pillow, that he realizes he’d reverted into Gallifreyan. Somehow though, he thinks she understood, saw straight through the foreign tongue and read the meaning in it anyway. If only because she knows him that well. 

Some time later they stand together in his shower, the water flowing over both of them and running in seductive rivulets down her body. He found that once they’d finally consummated their relationship the need to do it again grew exponentially. The total destruction of his bedroom is testament to that, and he’ll really need to sort out a new headboard shortly with the TARDIS. Possibly one with steel reinforcements. On second thought, he’ll reinforce hers too. Just in case. 

They always seem to work so well on a ‘just in case’ basis. An apple in his pocket just in case they get hungry, trainers on their feet just in case they need to run, an escape route just in case they natives prove hostile….and now, best of all, far more upholstered furniture on the TARDIS just in case they want to shag.


End file.
